


Relief Next To Me

by Neffie (originalneffie)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:18:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalneffie/pseuds/Neffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for sherlockbbc-fic kinkmeme prompt: John/Mike Stamford and their low key relationship</p><p>Their pub nights are date nights, and so are their lunch time meet-ups, and any time John has to crash on Mike's couch because Sherlock's drove him too far up the wall. </p><p>It's not a secret, they just haven't made a fuss about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief Next To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed bit of fluff. My first kinkmeme fill and my first (completed) Sherlock fic.
> 
> Original Prompt [here](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21231.html?thread=122967279#t122967279).

Mike's flat smells of clean laundry and, occasionally, last night's take-away. It does not smell like formaldehyde. In the fridge there are normal fridge things, beer and cheese and neat boxes of leftovers. There are no body parts, identifiable or not. The living area is neat, simple, maybe a little sparse. It is not a jungle of impossible stacks of books with ninja stars hidden under pillows.

Baker Street is home, and John would not trade it for anything, even Mike's tidy, quiet flat. John loves Sherlock, he does. He's never been closer to another person in his life. He's the best mate he's ever had. He would die for the wanker. He's killed for him. It's just that sometimes he needs to get away long enough to remember how brilliant he is, instead of imagining him as a punishment sent directly from God.

After the longer cases, once he's made sure that all the consultant paper work has been completed and is on Lestrade's desk. He takes Sherlock home and coaxes some food into him, tends to whatever scrapes and bruises that have been acquired and subsequently ignored, then settles him down in bed where he will sleep like a log for 14 hours.

When he has taken care of all of that, he heads to Mike's for a beer and some takeaway and some blessed normalcy, if only for a couple of hours. Sometimes, Mike will have his arm stretched out across the back of the couch and John will relax back into it and close his eyes. He can pretend that he is John Watson, medical student. He has never held a gun and Afghanistan is just a place on a map.

John's never considered himself a selfish kind of person, but it's nice to have someone's undivided attention for once. He knows that Mike's mind is nowhere but here, in this moment, with John. Even when it's just sitting on the sofa watching telly or reading medical journals in a warm silence, shoulders touching, supportive and undemanding.

It doesn't hurt that Sherlock is friends with Mike as well. He approves of him, approves of him spending time with John. As much as it makes John bristle that he needs Sherlock's approval for anything, it does mean that Sherlock is no more petulant than usual when John leaves for the evening.

Mike is one of very few people he knows that can say the name “Sherlock Holmes” without a sneer. He laughs at John's anecdotes about life at 221B instead of staring at him in abject horror. Mike is the only person in the entire world that has known both Sherlock Holmes and John Watson before they ever knew each other, and the one that brought them together. He listens patiently when John rants and raves about whatever mess Sherlock has gotten himself or both of them into. Once the anger has dissipated and his energy with it, there is his big, warm hand rubbing circles on John's back.

And when John's mobile chirps with text, Mike understands. “I'm sorry,” John says. “It's just...”

Mike's face is open, honest. His smiles come easily and often. He chuckles and helps John into his coat. “Go on then, keep him out of trouble. As much as he'll let you anyway.”

“God bless you, Mike Stamford.” he sighs as they share a quick hug and kisses on the cheek before John dashes out the door.


End file.
